


The Curse

by impalaloompa



Series: Witcher Tumblr prompts and shorts [5]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, suicide mentioned, the boys get cursed, this gets seriously angsty, yennefer comes to the rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 10:01:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23849386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalaloompa/pseuds/impalaloompa
Summary: “ Come on Bard," he stepped towards the door, "I need a drink."As he went to pass through the doorway a sharp pain spiked through him, coming from deep in his core. It burned through his nerves and tensed up his limbs. At the same time, he heard Jaskier gasp. The Bard dropped to his knees, clutching his gut, face contorted in pain.Geralt stumbled back, light pulsing behind his eyes, and as he grabbed the table for support, the pain ebbed. He snapped his attention to the Bard who seemed to be okay again, breathing hard, beads of sweat forming on his brow."What-what was that?" Jaskier panted.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher Tumblr prompts and shorts [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857856
Comments: 34
Kudos: 702





	The Curse

**Author's Note:**

> comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Anonymous prompt - Could I maybe suggest a prompt? It’s fine if not! Just I’ve seen a lot of fics (like 3 honestly) where Geralt and Jaskier are cursed to stay close to each other lest one or both are in unimaginable pain. That but they go visit Yennefer and find out the only way is to spend like an hour apart from on another, just major angst, like they’re both claimed to opposite sides of the room suffering and watching the other in pain :o Thanks!

"Let me check," Jaskier chirped and before Geralt could stop him, the Bard stuck his head up from the over-turned table they were crouched behind.

The Witcher grabbed a fistful of his doublet and yanked him back down.

"Yeah, I have assessed the situation and it's eh, not good," Jaskier rubbed the back of his neck.

"What part of a rampaging Mage did you think would be good?" Geralt growled, brow set in a deep scowl.

Jaskier shrugged, the slight quiver in his jaw muscles betraying his fear at their current predicament.

This wasn't how his day was supposed to go. When they had arrived in the small town, the townsfolk had asked him to deal with a Mage who, quote, "is a little bit intense and kind of creepy." Geralt had rolled his eyes and almost ignored the request but Jaskier had insisted they check it out, even if it came to nothing.

Geralt knew that the Bard was hoping to spend the night in the town rather than sleeping rough under the stars again for the fifth night in a row. Investigating the Mage would waste the time until nightfall and then they would have to stay in the tavern. Geralt had decided to indulge Jaskier. He had to admit, a straw mattress and scratchy sheets did sound like a nice change from roots sticking into your back and the cold that crept in with the dark.

They had found the Mage's tower easily enough. It stood on the outskirts of the town. Five storeys high, slate roof, thin windows, moss covered brickwork. Nestled amongst tall growing brambles and gorse. 

Geralt had intended to have a nice, calm conversation with the Mage, sort out whatever miss understanding had happened between them and the townsfolk then head back to the tavern for ale and a warm dinner.

That's how it was supposed to go.

Unfortunately for Geralt, the Mage seemed a little unhinged and was babbling on about the properties of a certain mushroom he had found by the river. The Witcher recognised it immediately as a Dracus Soria or, in the common tongue, Dragons Breath. 

The mushroom was small, perfectly round and a violent red colour. The gills underneath the cap were orange and the stalk a mustardy yellow. If ingested it burned down the gullet and practically melted the person from the inside out. There was the odd rumour that if treated correctly, the mushroom could cure all manner of aliments, but everyone who had tried had died horribly.

Geralt tried explaining this to the Mage but his warnings fell on deaf ears. When the Mage had wanted to feed his latest batch of findings to Jaskier, Geralt had put himself between him and the Bard with a menacing expression on his face that even a Mage would think twice before challenging him. 

Unfortunately for Geralt, the Mage had blasted him aside with a powerful spell and then when Jaskier ran from him, decided to eat the mushroom himself.

Now the Mage was dancing about his workshop in agonising pain, firing off spells and incantations in all directions, as he was driven mad by the mushroom’s effects. 

Geralt risked a peek around the side of the table they were using as a shield but quickly drew back again as a white jet of sparks narrowly missed his face.

He had two options. The first, wait the Mage out and let the mushroom kill him but at risk of his and Jaskier's probable deaths. The second, go and kill the Mage himself. 

He grunted, gritting his teeth together, amber glare on the Bard as he tried to form the best strategy.

"This isn't my fault," Jaskier huffed indignantly, guessing what the Witcher was thinking, "How was I supposed to know that this guy was batshit crazy."

Geralt ignored him, trying to tune his hearing onto the Mage to work out where he was. The sound of Jaskier's slightly sharp breathing, the pattering of his heart. The screaming of the Mage as he was burned from the inside. The crackle of magic whizzing through the air. The smashing of glass as vials and beakers were thrown about the room. The heavy shuffling of footsteps, directly on the other side of the table.

"Jaskier, when I say, push the table as hard as you can," he blinked at the Bard.

Jaskier nodded, placing his palms against the solid wood, a focus coming over him that was usually reserved for his composing. 

Geralt got in position, listening as the Mage hopped from foot to foot.

"Now!" he growled and slammed his hands into the table as hard as he could.

The table shunted forward with enough force to crash into the Mage and send him sprawling to the floor. Geralt sprang up from his crouching position, blade in hand, ready to strike the convulsing Mage before he did any more damage.

"Geralt!" Jaskier's warning came too late and a hot stream of magic hit Geralt square in the chest and threw him back against the wall.

He brushed off the frantic hands that were trying to roll him over and pushed himself gingerly to all fours.

Jaskier's blue eyes were wide with shock, his hands trembling slightly as they hovered over Geralt, ready to catch him if he collapsed.

Geralt sucked in a long breath. No broken bones as far as he could tell, and there were no obvious effects from the spell that hit him, so he decided that he was probably okay.

As he hauled himself to his feet, the room suddenly went quiet. The Mage spluttered one last breath before his twitching limbs finally stilled.

"Well that was a laugh and a half," Jaskier said shakily, "Do you think the people will still pay us, even though he kind of offed himself?"

"Hm," was the only response he got from the Witcher. 

Geralt sheathed his sword again and cracked his knuckles. He glanced at the Bard with a warmth that had Jaskier smiling.

"Come on Bard," he stepped towards the door, "I need a drink."

As he went to pass through the doorway a sharp pain spiked through him, coming from deep in his core. It burned through his nerves and tensed up his limbs. At the same time, he heard Jaskier gasp. The Bard dropped to his knees, clutching his gut, face contorted in pain.

Geralt stumbled back, light pulsing behind his eyes, and as he grabbed the table for support, the pain ebbed. He snapped his attention to the Bard who seemed to be okay again, breathing hard, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

"What-what was that?" Jaskier panted.

Geralt glanced at the dead Mage then inhaled sharply. He moved towards the door again and the same pain punched though him. Jaskier cried out, bent double so that his forehead was pressed against the flagstone.

The Witcher quickly stepped back again, and again the pain faded. He looked to the Bard who was shaking, then back at the Mage. Panic set in as he realised what was going on.

He made for the door again, wanting to be sure but halted abruptly as Jaskier wailed, "Geralt no, please."

"Fuck," Geralt growled.

***

Travel was difficult. Very difficult.

They couldn't be apart more than a few feet without being crippled by excruciating pain. Whatever curse the Mage had hit Geralt with was strong and he knew that they would need a Mage's help to undo it.

The night before when they had made camp and fallen into their usual routines, they kept forgetting that they were restricted by distance and had struggled to remain calm with each other as they tried to avoid hurting each other. They had set up their bedrolls and fallen asleep in each other's arms but when Jaskier had rolled away in his sleep they were both woken by a jolt of agony that forced the breath from their lungs. Geralt had bundled Jaskier to him, wrapping him in his strong arms again to keep him close. After pressing a gentle kiss to Jaskier's temple and tucking the Bard tight to his chest, they had both finally drifted off again.

Geralt was a Witcher. He had a much higher pain threshold than most and even though each stab of pain was unbearable, he was definitely holding up better than Jaskier. He couldn't even imagine what this was like for the Bard. It must be like being ripped apart again and again and again. And Geralt didn't know what was worse. Watching Jaskier suffer or being helpless to stop it.

Jaskier was pale, the stench of fear tainting his usual flowery scent. Each time they accidentally moved too far away from each other, the pain brought the Bard to his knees, and he seemed to get weaker with each bout.

Their usual dynamic of Geralt astride his mare with Jaskier keeping pace beside was absolutely out of the question.

Jaskier was very quiet as he sat behind Geralt on Roach. His uncharacteristic silence unnerved Geralt. Worry fluttered in his gut.

"We are going to see Yennefer," the Witcher rumbled, "if anyone knows how to lift this curse, it's her."

"How long?" Jaskier's voice sounded raw.

"Hm?"

"How long until we reach her?" Jaskier shuffled slightly.

"About four days, as the crow flies," Geralt chewed his lower lip.

Jaskier didn't respond. He just let his head rest on Geralt's back, swaying with the motions of the horse underneath him.

"We're going to be okay," Geralt said after a stretch of quiet, "you hear me?"

Jaskier nodded weakly, keeping his face pressed against Geralt.

The days passed excruciatingly slowly. 

They tried to be very careful with how much distance was between them, sticking as close together as they possibly could. After a day went by without any pain, Jaskier perked up a bit, even humming softly as Roach took them through winding farmland and dense forests.

But then they were ambushed by bandits.

Geralt heard them a second before they attacked and barely had time to rip his sword from its sheath as they descended. There were only four of them. Easy game for a Witcher, except-

Except he couldn't leave Jaskier's side and that put them both in very real danger. 

Still astride Roach, Geralt swung at them as best he could but it was awkward, sluggish, and he was pulled from Roach and slammed heavily to the ground.

Jaskier's scream ripped through the air as pain clamped Geralt to the spot. The Bard fell from the horse and was writhing about on the ground, screaming in agony.

This was the furthest apart they had been since being cursed and it felt like someone was pushing hot pokers into every part of Geralt's body. His vision flashed white, his ears rang. He couldn't breath. 

The bandits froze in shock, not quite sure what was happening but quickly realising that the Witcher and the Bard weren't able to defend themselves. They approached with confidence; blades held up ready to take an easy prize.

By some miracle, Geralt was able to lift his hand and cast Aard at the bandits. The telekinetic wave sent them flying. One bounced off a tree, the sound of his spine cracking drowned out by Jaskier. Another tumbled headfirst into a patch of thorns, yelping and clawing to get free. The third and fourth were lucky and were just thrown a ways down the road. They grabbed the one stuck with thorns and beat a hasty retreat.

Geralt crawled towards Jaskier. The pain slowly fading to a dull ache the closer he got until it finally stopped altogether. His skin prickling uncomfortably, he reached out to the the Bard.

Jaskier's breath sobbed in his chest, tears streamed down his cheeks, and he was shuddering violently. Curled up on his side with his fingers digging into the earth.

"Jaskier," Geralt rasped, placing a gentle hand on the Bard's shoulder.

Jaskier tensed under his touch but eventually slumped into the ground as Geralt stroked his arm soothingly.

The echoes of pain still rippling through his body, Geralt managed to get Jaskier to sit up and he pulled the Bard into his lap. He buried his nose in Jaskier's hair, arms cocooning him in warmth, and listened as Jaskier's breathing slowly evened out and the rabbit-quick thundering of his heart started to return to normal. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "Jask, I'm so sorry."

"What are you sorry for? It's not your fault," Jaskier sounded tired. No, more like exhausted.

Geralt felt the same weariness in his bones and he didn't know if he had the strength to stand yet, so he stayed sat on the ground, cradling Jaskier, hating how there was nothing he could do to make this better.

On the evening of the fourth day they came to a bustling city. The streets were still full of vendors trying to sell their wares and the noise of a chattering crowd reached them before they even got to the city gates set into defensive walls.

The guards let them through with a nod and Geralt guided Roach carefully through the mob of people going about their daily lives. 

The smell of baking bread and brewing ale, churned up mud, and horse, incense and salted fish hit them in a heavy wave as they navigated the busy streets. They passed through the wooden houses of the suburbs and then the cobbled stone of the city centre.

Geralt hopped off Roach and helped Jaskier down. He brought her to a sheltered lean-to where several other horses were tethered and paid the horse master to look after her until they came back for her.

"Why is Yennefer here?" Jaskier asked, looking around him at the surroundings, "this isn't the kind of place she is usually attracted to."

Geralt laced his fingers with Jaskier's and brushed his lips against his knuckles.

"She had an opportunity to get information from a councilman or something. She's using his townhouse for her work," he grunted.

Hands still twined together, Geralt spoke quickly to a merchant then pulled Jaskier with him as he searched out the townhouse.

They were buffeted on all sides as they manoeuvred through the packed streets, clinging desperately to each other to avoid being separated.

Geralt halted by a grand looking house with a pillared entrance and slatted shutters over the windows. A plume of leafy plants grew in ceramic pots either side of the front door, a spray of green against the grey marble. Geralt knocked.

The oak door creaked as it swung open and Geralt led Jaskier inside. The door shut deftly behind them and the overpowering smell of sage and lavender chased away the scents of the street. 

They were standing in a small entrance hall with a staircase ahead of them and a door on the left and right. 

Geralt wrinkled his nose as a new scent hit him. Lilac and gooseberries. 

"Well, well, well," a female drawl sounded from the top of the stairs, "and I was beginning to think that this evening would be boring."

"Yennefer," Geralt dipped his head to her.

The Mage descended the staircase with such elegance it looked as if she were floating. She was dressed in a black and white dress and her raven black hair tumbled about her shoulders in soft waves. Her violet eyes sparkled in the light from the torches bracketed to the walls. 

"I would say that it's good to see you but you usually only come to me when you are in trouble," she smirked, gliding past and inviting them to follow her through the door on the left, "So, what's happened this time?"

The drawing room she brought them into was vast and airy, embellished with sculptures and art dotted along the panelled walls. 

"A curse," Geralt let his amber eyes flit about the room before resting on the Mage as she poured herself a glass of dark amber liquid from a decanter.

"Must be serious," she quirked an eyebrow at him, "the Bard hasn't said a word since coming through the door."

If Jaskier wasn't dead on his feet, he would have flushed. Instead, he looked at his boots miserably.

"It's bad Yen," Geralt's voice was tight. He knew what she was going to ask before the words fell from her mouth.

"Let me see," she tilted her head slightly.

Jaskier's head shot up, blue eyes wide.

"Geralt no, please," his voice broke on the last word and Geralt felt his heart shatter.

"To know what I'm working with, I have to see it," Yennefer swirled the contents of her glass absently.

"Just quick Jask, we'll do it quick," Geralt tried as Jaskier shook his head frantically.

Geralt caught the look in the Mage's eyes and gritted his teeth. Guilt flashed through him.

"I'm sorry," he took a few long strides from Jaskier then buckled with pain. The noise that escaped Jaskier was heart-wrenching but before he could crumple to the ground, Geralt was back by his side and pulling him into a hug.

Yennefer was quiet for a long time and the Witcher felt his unease grow with each silent second.

"Is... is there a way to-" he started after he couldn't bare it any longer.

"To break it? Yes. But you're not going to like it," she sighed and put her glass down on a side table.

Jaskier balked at her words, clinging to Geralt desperately, trying to draw comfort from him.

"To break this curse, you have to force yourselves to stay separated in the same room as each other for an hour," Yennefer bit her lower lip.

"What?" Jaskier sounded so broken and scared. Geralt's gut twisted painfully.

"It is the only way. One hour of excruciating pain and then free, or the rest of your lives never being able to leave each other's sides," she blinked slowly.

"There must be something else. Some other way," Geralt growled.

"You could always kill yourself," Yennefer curled her lip.

"Fuck," Geralt grunted.

The Witcher looked at the Bard. Jaskier's eyes were swimming with unshed tears and Geralt's heart panged in his chest. He brushed the pad of his thumb down Jaskier's cheek and the Bard leaned into his touch.

He hated this. He hated this with everything that he had. But he knew what they had to do. He couldn't spend the rest of his life tethered to Jaskier. Not like this. The idea of spending the rest of his life with the Bard was something the thought about a lot and it filled him with warmth and excitement but, what bound them together right now was dangerous and, if he was being selfish, impractical. He wouldn't be able to hunt monsters and Jaskier wouldn't be able to perform for the masses. They would just keep getting in each other's way and besides, separation in a relationship is healthy. But the thought of spending an hour in that amount of pain made him sick to the stomach. Not just that. Having to see Jaskier spending an hour in that amount of pain would probably break him. But he knew what they had to do.

"Jaskier," he said softly.

"I know Geralt. I know," the Bard choked.

Geralt pressed his lips to Jaskier's and Jaskier melted into his mouth. Geralt rested his forehead against the Bards, keeping him close, breathing the same hot air. 

"I love you," he mumbled.

"I love you too," Jaskier's voice was barely a whisper.

Geralt set his face in a determined expression then looked at the Mage.

"So how do we do this?" he growled.

Yennefer looked about her, "in here is fine. You just have to go as far away from each other as possible then stay there. It's uh, up to you if you distance slowly or just... go for it."

Jaskier paled, fear crossing his young face.

Geralt swallowed thickly. 

"Maybe slowly is better?" he glanced at Jaskier, "get used to the pain then push it further, get used to it then further?"

That made sense but Jaskier was still hesitant to agree to anything.

"The hour doesn't start until you are fully separated. So going slower increases the amount of time you're in pain," Yennefer swelled with sympathy.

Seeing the Bard and the Witcher so scared and vulnerable brought a very strange feeling to her chest and she tried to push it away.

"Quick then," Geralt rubbed his face with his hands, "fuck! I don't know."

Jaskier placed a trembling hand on his arm.

"Quick. Get it over with," he sounded sure.

Geralt nodded. His usually slow heart was thumping frantically in his chest.

They spent the next few minutes discussing how they were going to do it. It was agreed that Jaskier wouldn't make it to his side of the room by himself and Geralt was faster anyway. They decided that they were both going to stand at the far wall, then Geralt was going to sprint to the opposite wall. He was fairly sure he could keep it together long enough to reach it.

They stood side by side, breathing heavily, holding hands, building their courage.

Yennefer had assured them she would be on hand if anything went wrong and she perched herself on the side table, taking long drinks of the amber liquid in the glass.

"Okay, after three," Geralt glanced at Jaskier who nodded. He reluctantly let go of Jaskier's hand, a torrent of emotions swirling inside him.

Jaskier pressed himself hard against the wall.

"One," said Geralt, voice tight, settling in a stance to start running, "Two..."

On three he launched himself away from the wall. Jaskier's scream harmonised with his own and pain lanced through him, growing in intensity as he forced his legs to carry him. He threw himself at his destination, crumpling awkwardly on the landing and gritted his teeth together as wave after wave tore through him. 

It was unlike anything he had every felt before. The edges of his vision kept going dark. The dryness of his mouth quickly choking him as he growled. His muscles spasmed and ached. Sharp pain kept spiking through his organs. He willed himself to pass out, but the black wouldn't come.

He forced himself to look at Jaskier.

The Bard was in a heap on the floor, his whole body contorting and convulsing, the scream pulled from him only stopping when he had to take a breath.

Yennefer wasn't looking at either of them. She was very close to covering her ears with her hands to block out the noise. But she didn't. They needed to see her strong. If she wilted, what hope did either of them have?

As the minutes crawled past, Geralt kept waiting for his body to go numb, to get used to the pain and filter it out like background noise. But it just kept coming, finding new ways to hurt him in places he didn't know even existed.

Jaskier had stopped screaming but only because he physically couldn't anymore. 

The half-hour mark was signalled by Yennefer and Jaskier let out a long, distressed noise that broke Geralt's heart.

"I can't," he sobbed, "I can't do this. Please. Please don't make me do this. Please."

"Just hang on Jaskier," Yennefer was crouched over him, brushing his sweat soaked hair out of his eyes.

"Please," he wailed, "make it stop. Please. G-Geralt."

Geralt had to look away from him. He knew that if he caught those blue eyes he would break and abandon his wall to crawl to Jaskier's side. They were so close now. So close.

The Witcher sucked in sharp, shallow breaths as he clenched his jaw so hard, he was pretty sure he heard a tooth crack.

And then finally, finally after what seemed like an eternity, the pain was gone. 

Geralt howled with relief. His body felt strangely light. Slowly testing each limb, he pushed himself up off the floor and leaned against the wall.

Then he saw Jaskier and he wanted to scream even though he knew he couldn't.

The Bard was on his side, eyes glazed over, tears streaming down his face, his whole body shuddering with each shallow breath. Yennefer was by his head, muttering soothing words and light incantations to bring him back round.

Not trusting his legs to support him, Geralt used a chair to pull himself up then cautiously made his way over to Jaskier and Yennefer. He collapsed by her side and reached for his Bard.

"Jaskier," Geralt shook him gently.

"I'm not sure he can hear you," the Mage's voice sounded tight.

"What do you mean?" fear and panic tainted his tone.

"He's retreated so far back into himself I'm struggling to...to find him," she frowned.

Geralt took Jaskier's hands and realised that the Bard's fingertips were bloody from where he had clawed at the floor. Geralt choked back a sob. 

"I'm here Jaskier. Come back to me, please," the Witcher rasped, "it’s over. It's all over."

Jaskier blinked. Then his breathing stuttered. Then he groaned.

"Jaskier?" Geralt's voice was thick with emotion.

"Remind me to never get mixed up with Mages again," Jaskier's voice was reedy and barely audible. His gaze landed on Yennefer, "ah shit. Spoke too soon."

Geralt laughed. It was raspy and almost painful in his raw throat, but it resonated with giddy relief. 

Over the next few days they mostly just slept, tangled in each other's arms, in one of the lush bedrooms of the townhouse. Yennefer checked in on them every now and then but tried not to disturb them too much. They were both exhausted and needed time to recover which she had full faith that they would. She was a little worried about their mental states but that was something she could evaluate once they were stronger. 

On the morning of the fifth day Geralt was woken by the harsh sunlight spilling through the drapes hanging over the windows. He had been having a rather bad dream about a curse and unimaginable pain but then he remembered that it wasn't a dream, it had actually happened, and he was struck with exhaustion anew just thinking about it. It was strange. He usually didn't need to sleep. Quite often, meditation was enough to revive him but all he had done for however long it had been, was sleep. 

He became aware of the warmth in the bed next to him and he let himself smile as he looked at Jaskier sleeping peacefully. The slow rise and fall of his chest. The glow of the morning sun on his skin. He was utterly beautiful. It was hard to believe that not so long ago he had been drowning in terror and pain.

Geralt swallowed hard. The memories would haunt him forever and Gods only knew what lasting effects the trauma would have on Jaskier. 

He tried to force the thought away as he traced the side of Jaskier's face with a gentle finger. He ghosted over the Bard's soft lips and graced the curve of his jaw. 

Jaskier stirred slightly but didn't wake and Geralt hummed softly. 

Let him sleep, he thought to himself, and when he wakes, he won't have time to think about what happened because he'll be too busy being loved by me. Gods Geralt, when did you become such a sap? 

He smiled when Jaskier mumbled in his sleep.

Oh. When I fell in love. That's when.

And Geralt let himself sink back into pleasant black.


End file.
